The Red Hydrangea
by Oakwyrm
Summary: Matthew likes Francis, but Francis only has eyes for Arthur. What will it take for the Frenchman to notice Matthew? Does he even want to know? (summary sucks, I know)


**Hello, this is a story written by me and co-authored by Zala-chan. If you're wondering why the title is what it is it's "The Red Hydrangea" because when I finished the first version of this story I realized I had no idea what to call it... So it's the Red Hydrangea.**

**WARNING: Frightened Canada and fluff ahead**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story...seriously, Zala-chan came up with the basic plot.**

**Zala-chan: Oh come on. You wrote it I just invented, altered and edited it. (totally not sarcastic)**

**Me: I'm not sure how to take that...**

**Zala-chan: *adorable tehe sound***

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Francis sighed as he watched the image of perfection in front of him. The Brit was trying (and failing) to hide the blush covering his face by hiding behind his hands. The light from the large windows in the library fell on him just right, making his hair shine and his skin glow. The eyebrows where, perhaps, a little large. OK, they where huge. But Francis liked them.

Blue eyes, holding a spark of laughter in them at the expense of the embarrassed Brit twinkled and the blond leaned down, catching Arthur's chin in his hand and pressing his lips to those of his boyfriend. Arthur's blush regained strength and he pushed his lover away.

"I-idiot!" he hissed. "We're here to study..."

.

.

.

Alfred laughed and pecked Arthur on the lips again before returning his attention the the book in front of him. Francis sighed, trying to not imagine himself in the American's place. It hurt, seeing the Brit in the arms of another, but, in hindsight, it probably didn't hurt all that badly. He was resigned to his fate, unaware of the near invisible eyes peeking shyly at him from behind a large textbook.

Matthew smiled a little. Seeing his younger brother happily together with Arthur made the Canadian boy happy, but also sort of sad. The reason for this sadness was that he hated to see Francis sad. Matthew still remembered the time when they where kids. They used to be like a big family. That was gone now. Matthew and Alfred's parents had died when they where fifteen and it had devastated the entire group. Alfred had been so depressed Matthew hardly even knew him any more. Then Arthur had come and he had comforted Alfred, knowing himself the pain of loosing his parents and they had grown very close, eventually getting together, and they were still dating to this day, five years later.

After that their group sort of broke apart and Matthew had started to... well, the best word to describe it was...fade... He had gone unnoticed while walking in broad daylight. He became almost like a ghost. Watching, observing, unbeknownst to others. Alfred still saw him plain as day, and Francis and Arthur did too, but the group was never the same. The worst part was the hurt he felt when he saw the looks that Francis gave Arthur. He often wondered what it would take for those eyes to turn his way. Then he shook his head. It would never happen.

Francis felt a shiver run up his spine and looked behind him, trying to see if someone was watching him. All he saw was Matthew, buried in a textbook. He shrugged it off and returned to his studies.

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Matthew looked around nervously, he was not supposed to be out this late. Especially in this area. The blinking light of the lone street lamp only served to make the small Canadian more nervous. Matthew's violet eyes widened as a hand was clapped to his mouth and someone snaked and arm around his waist. He was surrounded by a group of big, burly men with completely horrifying looks of desire on their faces.

"Well aren't you a pretty little thing?" a gruff voice whispered in his ear. Matthew whimpered and screwed his eyes shut, hoping against hope that this wasn't real. As the hand started to wander. Matthew tried to shriek as he struggled but his mouth was too well blocked. He couldn't even move his jaw enough to bite his assailant. In a desperate attempt to get free he managed to get one of his arms loose to elbow the man holding him in the gut but another of the thugs caught it and held it fast.

"Now, now, we don't want any of that now do we?" the thug asked. Matthew felt about ready to cry.

He was just about to ready to give up when he suddenly heard a loud whistle and a dog barking. The thugs looked up, startled fear plain in their features.

"Oh crap! It's Officer Bielshmidt!" one of the thugs exclaimed before the entire group scurried away like the frightened rats they were. Matthew was shaking as the tall blond stranger approached him and crouched down.

"Can you stand?" he asked in a thick German accent and Matthew nodded nervously, getting to his feet. "If you could please come with me, we need a statement Mr...?" the police officer inquired for his name and Matthew, swallowing to regain his voice, stammered:

"W-Williams, sir. Matthew Williams,"

"My name is Ludwig Bielshmidt, this way Mr. Williams," he lead Matthew to a police car (presumably his) and drove them to the station. Hours later when he had said all he could say, he had described the thugs as well as possible and given his statement he was free to go. He looked up at the clock and noted the time to be 3 AM. He sighed as he approached the door. Suddenly he found the officer who had rescued him standing in front of him.

"I-is there a problem, sir?" he squeaked out. Ludwig smiled reassuringly.

"No, there is not, I have called a friend to drive you home," he said. Matthew was surprised. Ludwig was going far past his duty, which had only been to bring him to the station and get his statement. He looked out and saw a limo pull up. "That would be him now," Ludwig said. Matthew stared at him.

"T-this r-really isn't necessary!" he said. Ludwig's eyes softened.

"Mr. Williams, I have a...friend, who went through the same thing, he was so..." he trailed off. "The point is I don't want you to have to walk home alone" he said, leaving it at that. Matthew nodded slowly and walked out as the driver opened the limo door and he slipped in wondering who exactly this thing belonged to. He looked around, soon spotting a young East Asian male sitting opposite him.

"Give your address to the driver," he said shortly. Matthew stammered out his thanks and gave the address of his flat to the driver who then set off. Matthew looked over to the unknown man and suddenly recognized him as the CEO to some huge company selling all sorts of anime products. The man, Honda Kiku if he remembered correctly, was quiet for the rest of the ride and Matthew took to his habit of vanishing into the background.

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Matthew woke the next morning after a short night of thankfully dreamless sleep to the smell of pancakes. Who was making pancakes? He slowly made his way down the stairs, still in his maple patterned pyjamas and saw Alfred and Arthur sitting at the table and Francis frying crêpes. Confused, Matthew blinked, trying to get some semblance of a coherent thought into his sleep deprived mind.

"Why are you here?" he finally managed, then realized that he had definitely not left the door unlocked in any meaning of the word. "Scratch that, how did you even get in?" Alfred frowned a bit.

"You don't remember? You me gave a spare key," he said, reaching into his pocked at pulling out the object in question.

"As for why," Arthur said. "The police called Alfred last night to tell him what happened," there was a nervous quality to his voice, as if he suddenly wasn't sure how to act around Matthew any more. Matthew gave a weak smiled and nodded. Glancing over to Francis, who was still frying crêpes, Matthew wished that he was the cause for the presence of the Frenchman but knew he was probably only there for Arthur. Matthew was snapped out of his musings by the object of said musings, namely Francis. The crêpes were done.

After they had eaten Alfred glanced at Arthur, who glared back at him before sighing and smiling gently.

"Alfred, you should spend some time with Matthew," he said softly. Alfred's eyes got the queer combination of lighting up while feeling slightly guilty.

"Really? You don't mind?" he asked.

"No I don..." Arthur started but Matthew was fast to cut in.

"But I do!" he exclaimed. "Al, I know you two mean well but really, do you think I'd miss the fact that both of you are suddenly wearing rings?" He asked. Alfred was just about to argue but Matthew cut in again "I'm fine, really. You should go be together. Oh and if I don't get an invite I'm not speaking to you for a year!" Alfred looked horrified at the prospect of his brother giving him the cold shoulder for that amount of time, while Arthur rolled his eyes, clearly spotting the empty threat for what it was. As if Alfred would forget to invite his older brother to his wedding.

"I would never!" Alfred exclaimed, this time Matthew really laughed.

"I know, now shoo!" he made a shooing motion at his brother and brother-in-law to be. Alfred and Arthur got up and after excusing themselves, and being reassured that Matthew really would be fine at least ten times they finally left. Francis suddenly put down his fork and looked at Matthew.

"Mattieu? Are you sure you're going to be fine?" he asked. Matthew tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear and ducked his head.

"Y-yeah. I mean, it's not like they actually did anything... I-it just gave me a bit of a scare," Matthew said, he couldn't imagine how he would be feeling right now if that gang had actually gotten what they wanted. He wondered if he'd even still be alive. He shuddered. Francis reached towards him and took his hand.

"Are you sure?" he persisted. Matthew shook.

"Oh god I thought..." he trailed off, pressing his free hand to his face in an effort to keep in the tears. His mind was so filled with what-ifs and his empathy for people who had actually been raped had sky rocketed. "I thought I was actually going to..." he choked up. Francis moved quickly getting up and wrapping his arms around Matthew, who tensed up at first but relaxed and let himself cry.

When he was done crying he just stayed still, waiting for Francis to let him go, but the Frenchman stayed put.

"U-um...F-Francis?" he said, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was being hugged by the object of his affections.

"Mattieu, if you need anything, call me, OK? I'll be here in ten minutes, I promise," Francis said, releasing Matthew from his hold. Matthew nodded and just as Francis was about to leave he suddenly, in a move far bolder than anything he was used to, grabbed the Frenchman by the collar and pulled him in for a kiss. Francis was frozen in shock for mere seconds before he pushed the Canadian back, a look of confusion on his face.

"S-sorry!" Matthew squeaked out, covering his face in his hands and nervously peeking from between them at the Frenchman, who suddenly smiled.

"Does this mean...?" he trailed off, but the meaning of the question was obvious. Matthew got even redder and nodded carefully.

"You should have told me years ago, maybe then I wouldn't have made myself fall for Arthur instead," he chuckled. Matthew lowered his hands, staring as Francis in disbelief.

"You're kidding," he said simply.

"Non," Francis said. Matthew groaned.

"Well that's a fine mess," he said. Francis knelt down to he was on eye level with Matthew.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, a little nervously, unsure how the Canadian would react. Matthew frowned.

"I just kissed you didn't I?" he said. Francis smiled and leaned forwards, pressing their lips softly together in a gentle kiss.

* * *

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**Well that was a complete... half disaster... Actually I'm a bit proud of this one... AND ZALA-CHAN YOU CAN'T SAY ANYTHING BAD BECAUSE THEN YOU'RE BASHING YOUR OWN WORK!**

**Zala-chan: Who? Me? *innocent smile***

**Me: Anyway, reviews are appreciated.  
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**ATTENTION: Apparently this story seems a bit jumpy, but I read through it and that's the way it's supposed to be. Sorry if the scene change things didn't show up, presumably that was the reason for this problem seeing as when I pulled up the story they didn't work, so they have been replaced.**


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